


forever I’ll live long

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Desperation, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Reunion Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10116977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Poe's a stupid reckless hero and Finn loves him. Except when he hates him for it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for [PBAM's Prompt Stack 2](http://pbam.dreamwidth.org/9520.html); come plaaaaaaay.
> 
> Title from A$AP Rocky, "Live Long A$AP".

"Don't do that again," Finn tells him, his mouth pressed right against the hollow of Poe's throat. It's hard to make out his words through the jangle of his belt hitting the floor and thumps of their boots getting pulled off and Finn's heaving breath. "You _asshole_ , you stupid reckless selfless _prick_ , what did you think you were going to do?"

Everyone's been asking Poe the same thing, in roughly the same words, with varying degrees of vehemence, since he got back. Black One limped back to rendezvous with one drive dangling loose and half a carrier full of liberated droids trailing behind. He'd taken on an advance squad of gunships, luring them away from the main hyperlane and dumping them in the dead end of a fork before doubling back to meet the frigate.

"Clear the advance guard and get the droids home free," Poe replies, reasonably, measured, even patiently. He's said as much to every single person, droid, and shimmering holo-call who's asked. 

Finn has him pushed up against the wall, two short passages out of medbay, in a disused examining closet. One hand grips Poe's shoulder; the other is clutched low on his hip. He laughs now, helplessly, banging his forehead against Poe's shoulder.

"What? It's true, I --" Poe trails off, shivering, as Finn keeps laughing but also returns to kissing his neck. Well, sort of kissing, sort of biting, definitely _inhaling_. "I saw an opening."

"Oh, you saw an opening? That's great!"

Finn watched the whole engagement on two screens, one from BB-8's camera, the other a real-time simulation, in which Black One was a glowing green scribble, dwarfed by the gunships, then nearly erased by the frigate. He watched with fists tight behind his back and jaw grinding. He watched it all over again, twice, while Poe got debriefed and reamed out by Statura and Leia, then checked over in medbay.

"Try as I might, I can't seem to find any cognitive impairment," Kalonia told Statura, with an eyebrow raised for Finn's benefit. Finn was hovering behind Statura, shifting restlessly, opening and closing his hands, unsure whether he should laugh or cry. "He's as healthy as he was when he received his commission."

"So he's just as stupid as he always was," Statura said, turning away. "Fantastic news."

"It was just a routine escort," Poe says now, wrapping his arm around Finn's neck. "Nothing to freak out about --"

"Not if anyone else had flown it, sure," Finn says, butting his face into Poe's neck, inhaling him, licking and sucking. "But you, you had to go and open a new front in the war. _Asshole_."

"Nah," Poe says, but he sounds uncertain. "Really?"

"Time will tell, won't it?" Finn tugs on Poe's hip, tilts him away from the bulkhead and kisses him hungrily. 

Poe holds the back of his head, gently, and tries to slow the kiss. No go; Finn's nearly vibrating, his big hands pushing and pulling, rearranging Poe, _reclaiming_ him. His kiss is every bit as active and forceful as his hands.

"Don't do that again," Finn's saying again, fingers curled into Poe's jersey. He always seems so much smaller out of the flight suit, unpadded, defenseless. Finn yanks on the jersey. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Poe says. He doesn't make the promise, but he does answer the literal question. "I hear you."

Finn yanks again, harder, and the jersey tears from placket to hem. Both hands on Poe now, roaming, roving, dragging up old sweat and new. His mouth follows, teeth as well as tongue and lips; Poe ends up with both arms wrapped around Finn's neck, holding him, lifting up to meet him.

"What do I have to _do_?" Finn asks, thumbs playing up and down the ridges of Poe's pelvic bone. "What am I supposed to fucking _do_?"

He sounds throttled, his words garbled by worry and swallowed tears.

"Hey," Poe says, "hey, _hey_ \--" He tries to slide down, kneel, look up at Finn: rearrange them in a better, more accurate approximation of what they are. Finn shakes his head, shoves Poe back, scrapes his mouth down to the open **V** of Poe's trousers.

"No," Finn says, denying _something_ , and fervently. "Get back, let me --"

"Love, you don't have to --" Poe stumbles as Finn shifts them backward, to the right and then back again, until the back of his knees meets the metal of a gurney.

"I have to," Finn says, above Poe now, knee between his legs, one hand braced inside Poe's armpit. "I _have_ to, and you have to take it, and I need you so fucking _much_ \--"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, I --" Poe wriggles as Finn tugs down his trousers and reaches to touch Finn, anywhere he can -- cheek, collar, gusset of his trousers. Finn gives him his palm and Poe licks it, wet, dripping, then sucks two fingers as hard as he can until Finn takes it back.

The gurney shakes as Finn clambers further up, mostly on top of Poe, hand in his drawers, wet hand wrapping right around Poe's cock as he kisses Poe hard. Poe lifts his hips, wraps a leg loosely around Finn's, groans for more as he fights to get Finn's trousers open. Finn goes still at the first brush of Poe's fingertips -- his face suddenly, fleetingly, tranquil, lashes for kilometers, beautiful lips barely parted -- then grunts. He starts moving again, biting at Poe's chin, shoving his hand farther back, nails over Poe's balls, reaching for his crack, groaning all over again when he finally finds the hole.

"Fuck, Finn, baby --" Poe throws open his legs wider, grabbing for both their cocks, all slippery-sticky and throbbing. "Please --"

"Shut _up_ ," Finn mutters. He's almost smiling, now grimacing. He kisses deeper and softer, nearly suckles at Poe's mouth as he rubs two knuckles against Poe's hole and thrusts into Poe's grip. "You're such an _asshole_ , what am I supposed to do?"

"Kiss me?" Poe suggests. "Make me come, that'd really show me, I'd be so --"

They're rocking together, finding a rhythm somewhere in the mess of shoving and clutching, biting and reaching, Finn with two fingers sunk deep and reaching deeper inside Poe (too dry, the burn just right), Poe with their dicks in his hand bouncing and fucking each other, and their mouths, sealed, then cracking open, teeth clicking and tongues swirling. It's inelegant, and Poe's head keeps bouncing against the wall, and Finn's going to feel the ache in his back and knee tomorrow, but they're going faster, grasping, clenching, driving each other over the edge and _aloft_.

Poe comes first, like nearly always. He can't contain himself, not around Finn, not with Finn inside and atop him, not with that face peering at him, whispering his name like it's a sob. He wants to cup Finn's face in both hands, kiss him like it means something permanent, something fixed they can both trust and hang on to and return to. But he's busy jacking Finn, muttering to him low and dirty, and still fucking himself, though more lazily now, on Finn's hand.

When Finn does come, there's sweat caught in his lashes and his tongue is halfway down Poe's throat. His hips pump like he's trying to break his own spine. 

"So perfect, so --" Poe says, but Finn's shaking his head, hiding his face against Poe's chest.

"Convince you," Finn says, " _show_ you, you need to know --"

"I know," Poe says, tipping back his head and sighing. Finn embraces him around the hips, resting his cheek against the rise of Poe's ribcage. Poe's fingers play randomly through the twists in Finn's hair. "I do."

As he shifts around and looks up, Finn digs his chin into Poe's ribs. "You really don't."

Poe closes his eyes. The orgasmic buzz downshifts and spreads out. It doesn't vanish, it simply quiets. "I do," he says. He traces the edge of Finn's eyesocket with his thumb, then the top of his ear. "You know I do." 

"I guess," Finn says. He starts to frown, but the expression relaxes back into his standard thoughtful alertness. "I was going to...." He shakes his head, then tips it into Poe's touch. "I don't know what I was going to do. If you'd really fucked up."

"I didn't."

"This time."

"Exactly."

Gazing up like this, Finn looks sad, and tired, but he smiles a little when Poe tugs on his earlobe. "Fair enough," he says finally. He presses a kiss to Poe's chest and settles back down. "Just try not to _enjoy_ yourself so much."

Poe scrubs his free hand over his face. "We both know that's not possible."

"Yeah," Finn concedes. "Also fair."

Poe takes a deep breath and holds it. Only when his eyes are starting to burn and thoughts beginning to swim does he let it out. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. He pushes at Finn's shoulder, tugs on his arm, urges him upward. When Finn complies, Poe kisses his throat, the hinge of his jaw, the corner of his mouth until Finn smiles again. "Not if I have anything to say about it, all right?"

Finn takes forever to reply. He nods, eyes closed, and kisses Poe back.


End file.
